


The Five Times Pepper Didn't Say 'I Told You So' and the One Time Tony Made Her Say It

by andibeth82, lizook12



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Five Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d known it was going to be a disaster...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Knew Then

**Author's Note:**

> This was a labor of love for us. Neither of us had had the insane pleasure of working with someone else before, but we found our way and are so proud of the result. We hope you enjoy it as much was we enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Much love to my partner in crime with this. From the first suggestion to trying to figure out how to joint post, it's been a blast. Thanks for being the Stark to my Rhodey.

She’d known it was going to be a disaster. 

Had told him so before they even left for Paris. 

But it was all “ _it’ll be fine, Miss Potts_.” and “ _Miss Potts, please remember to call Rhodey before we leave_.” 

And she’d taken care of it, calls on top of the packing and making sure all important mails would be forwarded to her phone.

Still, there was never a chance it wasn’t going to be a business meeting from hell. Obadiah was much more suited to deal with the corporation, but no, Tony had insisted. 

It was _his_ name on the letterhead, _his_ decision whether to move forward on the patent acquisitions. 

And then, foolishly, he’d ignored her suggestion that he go to the hotel once they landed. Instead, he’d been awake for twenty plus hours, doing god knows what with whatever flavor of the week had caught his eye.     

Not that she cared. 

Nope, she just wanted them to not look like fools in front of one of the largest tech companies in Europe. 

Well, it was too late for that. 

Sighing, she pushes open the cafe door, following him in as she hitches her bag higher on her shoulder. His jaw is tense, his fingers tapping relentlessly against his thigh as he searches for a free table. 

He finds one in the back corner and carefully folds himself onto the tiny chair, the tilt of his head the only indication that he’s waiting for someone else—for her—to join him.  

She slides into the seat across from him, inhales the scent of freshly baked pastry and percolating coffee. It’s overwhelming in a good way and she rocks back in the chair, crosses her arms over her chest as she lifts an eyebrow at him. 

It’s a soft admonishment, but she knows it’s all he can handle right now. 

He shakes his head, his fingers tunneling through his hair. He’s about to crash, she realizes, the exhaustion warring with irritation in his eyes is a dead giveaway. 

“Maybe we should skip the post-meeting notes and get you back to the hot—” 

“You don’t think I can make it back to the hotel myself? It’s only twenty feet away.”  

“Perhaps if I gave you step by step instructions and a gallon of coffee.” 

The words are tempered by the slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and he blows out a breath, leaning forward in his chair. “Don’t forget, Potts, you currently have my room key.” 

She rolls her eyes, suppresses the urge to hand the damn key over that second. As it is, she can’t stop herself from palming it, turning the plastic over in her pocket before slipping it back into its place next to their itinerary and his flash drive. 

“So a map, a gallon of coffee _and_ the key. I give you a sixty-five percent chance.”

“It’s passing.” 

“Barely.”

“Better than that damn meeting went.”

“I know.” She scoots her chair in, begins twirling a sugar packet through her long fingers. “I was there.” 

How could he forget? At one point, he was sure she was about to lasso him and forcibly remove him from the room just so he would stop talking.

No, he wouldn’t put it past her to be prepared for such an eventuality. She really was something, his Pepper. 

His? 

Where the fuck did that come from? 

He shakes it off, pushes it far out of his mind as she empties her pockets, piling a Notre Dame pamphlet on top of a Metro map and their schedule. Organizing herself— _them_ —for the rest of the day, no doubt. 

“...just accepted the Café au lait _or_ taken your sunglasses off for ten minutes. Who do you think you are, Jack Nicholson?”

“They’d be lucky to get two minutes with Nicholson.”

“Mr. Stark...”

“It was bright in there! I think Armand let his four-year-old finger paint on the walls.”

She laughs, her eyes lighting as she reaches for her bag. “It would explain the horrid color palette.” 

“Horrid is being generous.”

“Mmm.” Looking up from her bag, she narrows her eyes. “My point still stands, you could’ve easily salvaged that meeting if you—” 

“I know.” He grins at the fleeting look of shock that flits across her face, the way her hands release the handle of the bag. “They liked you a lot more than me, Miss Potts. Next time, I’m just going to send you on my behalf.” 

Her eyebrows lift in question for a second then smooth, accepting the truth in his tone. She inhales slowly, appears to study the Paris map to calm the feeling of pride sweeping through her, before meeting his eyes and smiling.     

“Damn right, you are.” 


	2. What If No One's Watching?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hasn’t left the workshop in three days. 
> 
> (Correction: Pepper knows that Tony hasn’t left the workshop in three days.)

Tony hasn’t left the workshop in three days.

(Correction: Pepper knows that Tony hasn’t left the workshop in three days.)

It’s not that she doesn’t understand what he’s going through (being “Iron Man” and what the implications of exposing himself have meant, coupled with the obsessive need for protection of everyone around them) and it’s not that she pretends to be oblivious to things like his eating habits or the fact that she hasn’t had to make his bed. But after Obadiah, after spending an exorbitant number of days holding conference calls with the board ( _yes, Tony would still be able to run the company despite his new “position” and yes, of course there would be a protocol in place for handling press_ ), Pepper’s learned to tread lightly where her boss is concerned - particularly when he’s in a place that tends to make him more susceptible to starting an argument.

(On one hand, she hates that she knows him so well. On the other, she prides herself on being able to tell exactly how and when the man who presents himself as the world’s most indestructible person will shatter.)

Pushing two fingers against the keypad, she steps into the room, half-accidently letting her thumb slide against the speaker’s volume control.

“Don’t lower my music.”

“Don’t ignore my calls.” Pepper reaches for the empty coffee cup sitting on the edge of the computer desk. “Is it really that hard to answer one question?”

“First, yes, second, it’s not one question, it’s usually ten.”

“It’s ten because you don’t answer the others when I actually need you to.” She walks the cup to the kitchenette, depositing it in the sink. In the far corner, DUM-E whirls to life, skittering towards counter at a speed that makes Pepper wonder just how long Tony’s had him on smoothie ban.

“Even your robot is more aware than you are right now. I think that might be a new low.”

Tony looks up from screw he’s tightening on one of the Mark’s armbands, narrowed eyes meeting her arched brow before looking back down.

“You know, I thought you were going home.”

Pepper shakes her head. “I _was_ going home _.” And then I realized nothing that I’ve needed for the past three days has been taken care of._ “But I can’t go home until you sit down for five minutes to talk to me. The DoD is still asking about patents. Rhodes says that you still owe him a plane and now apparently you owe him a car as well – no, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know – GQ wants to do a cover shoot with the suit, I think personally that’s a bit overkill but they want to hear it from you, not me. Also, there are two items in the art collection that the board is considering making available for charity but they’re not sure if it’s worth the investment to –“

“If I own it, it’s worth the investment,” Tony interrupts, pushing back from the table. “Tell GQ I’ll consider, but I want to choose the month and only if they give me a two page spread, I don’t want the picture in a centerfold. It’ll make the suit look terrible. Rhodey thinks I owe him a car, I do not, technically the driver hit me. And anyway, I paid for all the repairs already. Also, if the DoD thinks I’m giving them anything other than a no, they’ve clearly forgotten five years ago.” He cocks his head slightly, a smirk ghosting over his features.

“Does that answer all of your questions? Or should I ask to buy a vowel?”

Pepper crosses her arms, lowering her head just enough so that she knows he has a clear line of sight into her own face. He stares warily in return before turning his attention back to the render that JARVIS is producing.

“You’re going to mother me with one of those ‘you need sleep or you’ll die’ sentiments now, aren’t you?”

“Actually, I was going to ask if not making your bed for three days constitutes any change in my salary,” she replies without missing a beat and he looks up at that, threading fingers through his hair. For as tired as she knows he is, the glint of mirth that she catches streaking across his pupils is something of a comfort.

“Negative, Potts.” He waves a hand in the air, causing holographic shapes to circle in a dizzying manner. “Though I could always downsize your gross income at the expense of getting you an apartment closer to the house, if that would lessen the amount of stress I apparently subject you to on a daily basis.”

“No, thank you.” She doesn’t even try to hide the smile that she feels tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Your couch and I have developed quite the amicable relationship over the past ten years. I think I can continue to manage.”

Tony shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He leans towards the computer screen, suddenly fixated on the percentage level of an electromagnetic reaction and she uses the moment to inch closer to his desk, heels clicking against the hard floor.

“Are you working on another upgrade?”

“This?” Tony looks up. “Nah, this is just a routine power test to make sure the repulsors don’t blow.” He reaches into the armband, flexing his fingers around the curve of the glove and then glances up with a grin.

“Want to try it on?”

She meets his eyes, hers flashing with preconceived annoyance, until her mind reconciles the humor hidden behind the words.

“Very funny.” She pauses, letting her eyes flit sideways towards the Mark II before coming back to settle on his again.

“So you’re going to stay down here by yourself.” She tries to push it out of her mind, the fact that she suddenly doesn’t feel entirely okay with the idea of him spending another mostly sleepless night alone, with only a robot and a sarcastic online system to keep him company.

“You wound me, Pepper. You act like I’ve never been branded as anti-social before.” His comeback is coated with the trademark sarcasm she’s come to recognize as more of an emotional defense than anything else, and she presses her lips together before responding.

“Well, I’d like to stay. If you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?” Tony reaches absently for the computer’s keypad, and Pepper steadies her hand against the table.

“I mean, I’d like to stay down here. With you.” She watches as he turns slowly, an uncharacteristically shocked look spreading across his face as he processes her words.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” He lowers himself back into the chair with a look that resides somewhere between amusement and surprise “But for someone prefers to stay out of my superhero life, you’ll probably find a lot of this boring.”

Pepper smiles and perches herself gingerly on the edge of the desk, leaning towards the screen.

“Try me, Mr. Stark.”


	3. The Air I Need to Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day later and she was about ready to kill him.

Part of her is surprised he’s never seen the Rockies. Hasn’t even flown over them in testing the latest stabilizing development on the suit.   
  
The other part—the one that knows the Stones always win out over the Beatles and that halfway through the night he’ll end up stealing her half of the sheets—recognizes that even though he regularly visits New York City and Zurich, he’d rather be ensconced in his workshop.   
  
Tinkering with  _his_ designs or working through a problem without any outside interference.   
  
So major European cities and the booming capitals of each coast, yes. Various tourist destinations throughout the country? He probably hadn’t even registered that they might be worth visiting.   
  
When she’d found the first energy conference pamphlet in the mail she’d left it out on the coffee table, hoping he might actually be interested. That he wouldn’t need the push.   
  
Three more pieces of mail came, each more urgent the last.  

 ( _Mr. Stark, the energy conference would greatly benefit from your knowledge and expertise..._  
  
 _Denver would love to welcome you, from the Colorado Convention Center to the Four Seasons. Please confirm your attendance and we’ll take care of the rest._ )   
  
He’d strongly objected to the conference taking care of anything, he could pick his own damn hotel and, if he couldn’t, he trusted Pepper’s taste far above some second-year intern’s. In the end though, it was her hopefulness at escaping the heat of LA for a few days, the excitement etched in her eyes each time she just happened to slide it into conversation, that convinced him.   
  
She’d sent back a confirmation message immediately and set to work clearing schedules, packing, and arranging transportation.  
  
It was halfway through the first day that she started to notice it. He was moving a little slower than normal and, no matter how hard he tried to disguise it, she could tell he had a headache. The way he flinched whenever they changed meeting rooms was a dead giveaway.   
  
It took her another two hours to finally put it together.   
  
The altitude was getting to him.   
  
She’d learned it on a college trip to Aspen years ago: you don’t mess around in the “thinner” air. You drink lots of water, take your time doing any physical activity.   
  
But this was Tony.   
  
He’d rolled his eyes and pushed on when she’d mentioned it.   
  
Said he had fucking shrapnel in his chest, a little less oxygen wasn’t going to kill him.   
  
A day later and _she_ was about ready to kill him.   
  
Stubborn, crazy man.   
  
“...just the lights, I’m fine.” He grips the arm of the chair she’s shoved him into, his gaze darting towards the door.   
  
“You almost passed out at my feet.”   
  
“And you weren’t flattered? Come on, Pepper, most women would love devotion like that from their man.”  

She levels a look at him that’s a mix of annoyance and concern, her arms crossing over her chest as she shifts in her seat.   
  
“Ok, fine, so maybe I shouldn’t have pushed it this morning, but you know how I am.”  

She blows out a breath, presses her lips together.   
  
She does know how he is, that despite loving the spotlight, he gets nervous doing Q&As concerning his work, especially in front of a crowd like this. He usually offsets it with a short run or, in today’s case, a few laps in the pool.   
  
This in spite of her warnings to limit what he was doing and to drink more water already.  
  
“Mr. Stark, here’s some Tylenol and a pitcher of wat—” A young intern hurries into the room, clearly starstruck by the billionaire.   
  
Pepper can’t help it, she giggles as the girl attempts to hand the tray to Tony and all she’s met with is a half smile, his head tipping towards the table next to him.   
  
“He doesn’t like being handed things.” She stands, grabbing the pitcher and pouring water into the Stark Industries tumbler she’s uselessly been carrying for him the past two days.   
  
The water sloshes all over her hand, drips onto the carpet, but she barely notices. Twisting the cap onto the mug she shoves it into his hand before sitting down once more. She arches an eyebrow at him as the intern shuffles from the room.   
  
He doesn’t need any more prompting. He takes a drink, swallows the pain medicine and sits back in his chair. “When did we get these?”  

“They were last year’s corporate Christmas gift.” She pulls her chair a little closer to his, takes a drink from her own water.   
  
“Who designed them? A high school student?”   
  
“Actually, yes. We ran a contest for best design and Patrillo’s son entered.”  

He’s gazing at her half in admiration and half in disbelief. He’d always known she’d had the business sense to be CEO, but it’s the little things like this, knowing the name of every fucking employing _and_ who their family is, that she’d blown him away with.   
  
“...almost considered him for designing a new letterhead.”   
  
“The old letterhead is fine.”   
  
“No need to get defensive.” She grins, her gaze sweeping over him. His color is slowly returning to normal, his breathing much more even.   
  
“Oh, you’ll know it when I get defensive.”   
  
“Like that time in London?”   
  
“The man was hitting on you right in front of me!”   
  
“He was just asking if we’d taken the Thames boat trip.”  

“Sure.” He rolls his eyes, almost knocks himself in the teeth with the tumbler as he gulps down more water.   
  
Laughing, she checks her watch. He was due on stage fifteen minutes ago; she wonders who they have covering. Really, she could care less. Company engagements take a back seat to his health, to making sure he’s in one piece.   
  
Relatively speaking. There’s still the shrapnel, after all.   
  
Nudging his knee against hers, he leans forward. “Thanks for all the mothering.”  

“You wouldn’t be able to find your socks without me.”   
  
“I...” He shrugs, knowing that there’s no arguing with it.   
  
That he’s all the better for it.  
  
Slowly, he stands, knuckles flaring white against the back of the chair he’s using for support. He takes another drink and smiles over at her.   
  
Pushing out of her chair, she lets her eyes drift over him once more. His fingers loosen on the chair and she’s satisfied. Passing him his notes for the Q&A, she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and reaches into her bag. She pulls out a full bottle of water and shoves it against chest, smiling. “Just in case.”  

“Yes...” He winks, his lips brushing over hers. “Better stay hydrated.”


	4. The Next Big Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn’t buy things.

Tony doesn’t buy things. It’s something Pepper knows the same way she knows that Tony doesn’t like to be handed things, that Tony likes drinking scotch from the glass with the chipped rim, that Tony prefers red peppers on his pizza instead of green ones.

Tony doesn’t buy things, and Pepper thinks that fact would probably cause other people’s heads to spin. But in the ten plus years that Pepper has worked for Stark Industries, she’s never known her boss to willingly put down dollars for anything he didn’t already own.

(Besides, if he didn’t have it, chances were that his persona allowed him to acquire it for free.)

She remembers the first time she got an idea of just how much money he was actually sitting on, how much she was responsible for, remembers practically feeling sick to her stomach the first time she saw the expense reports from a conference (because despite her hefty paycheck, the numbers still added up to a figure she didn’t even think could exist.) She remembers Tony practically rolling his eyes at a reaction she didn’t realize her face had betrayed.

“Relax, Potts. If my memory’s right – and it always is - you used to work in accounting. Didn’t you ever think to sneak a look at my bank record every once in a blue moon?”

She hadn’t, of course, because when Pepper Potts worked in accounting, she was just one of the many SI employees who was hell-bent on doing her job and coming home at the end of the day. Certainly, while part of her had entertained the idea of moving up on the food chain, she never skulked around with the intention of becoming anything close to a personal assistant (much less a girlfriend) and it was mere luck Tony happened to show up at the office that one day in April, overhearing her correct Obadiah on a financial mistake that had gone unnoticed by three other accountants and half the board.

In less than two days, she had signed paperwork she didn’t understand and moved her office from a windowless cubicle to the cliffs of Malibu. It didn’t take long after that for Pepper to learn that - despite all his fancy cars and Gucci suits and highly intelligent household gadgets - even though Tony was made of more money than she had ever seen in her life, he didn’t care to buy.

Tony preferred to make.

Except Pepper knows that Tony couldn’t have possibly made the multicolored hideous couch sitting in the middle of the living room, the one that greets her unexpectedly when she walks in the door after work.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She keys open the door to the workshop without bothering to say hello, causing him to look up while feigning a glance that borders on complete naivety.

“I have got to have done something wrong.” At her glare, he holds up his hands. “What did I do wrong?”

“You have to ask?” Pepper kicks off her shoes, watching as a lone heel slides across the floor, coming to rest by the edge of the desk. Tony frowns, leaning back in his chair.

“Okay. I get it, you’re upset...”

She folds her arms over chest while he raises an eyebrow in response.

“…And I still haven’t heard your complaint.”

Pepper can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “My complaint is in the living room.” She swears his face lightens at the words and silently reminds herself that smacking her boss upside the head would probably be a bad move for everyone involved.

“Oh. That.” Tony shrugs flippantly. “Yeah, I don’t know. I just thought maybe, you know, maybe we needed another couch.”

Pepper lets out a laugh tinged with disbelief. “Maybe? Tony, we have a couch. We have the biggest couch I’ve ever seen, what on earth would you need another one for? Not to mention it’s taking up half the living room, and there are scratches on the floor - I just had that floor cleaned last week, and now you’re going to make me call for another appointment, all of this because you just _needed_ a second couch? I can’t believe you.”

“It’s my money!”

“And I manage it.” She laces her words with the same level of exasperation as he moves into her space, two hands clamping down on her shoulder blades.

“Pepper. It’s an ugly couch. Relax about it.”

“I’ll relax when you return it.” She presses her lips into a thin line and watches as his lips quirk upwards.

“We could make it nonreturnable.” For a moment, with her frustration barely contained, the innuendo of his words is almost lost and when they hit, she feels her face contort in disbelief.

“Tony. That’s disgusting.”

“Oh, come on.” He releases her shoulders, walking towards the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking it.”

“I wasn’t thinking it,” she replies with more force than she means, watching an eyebrow disappear into his hairline. He turns back to the sink without a word, placing a coffee cup on the counter.

“You’re really keyed up about this, aren’t you?”

“I’m keyed up about you spending money on a disgustingly awful piece of furniture that has no place in our home.” She stops suddenly as if she’s realized what she’s said out loud, and Tony cocks his head.

“ _Our_ home?” He gives her a lopsided grin. “Funny. I thought it was _my_ home.”

“Well, I just mean I take care of everything here anyway, I might as well, and…” She trails off, looking flustered, and Tony thinks that there are few things he enjoys more than seeing the damaged calm of Pepper Potts, someone who despite being unfazed by everything from superhero suits to dirty underwear is now tripping over her own words the same way she once refuted her own resignation on a rooftop in the middle of Flushing. He lets the resulting silence hang between them for longer than necessary while he runs a hand through his hair.

“I’ll return it.”

She closes her eyes at his words, the outburst having seemingly softened her mood. “Don’t bother. I’ll call in the morning and have someone come remove it. I’m sure one of the charities can find a use.”

Tony shrugs. “Just thought you’d like the surprise.” He moves back towards his chair and she meets him halfway, wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling the hard rim of the arc reactor as it presses against the thin fabric of her suit.

“Surprise me with a robot that brings me morning coffee,” she says, her voice low by his ear. “Or something that does my paperwork when I’m falling asleep in bed after midnight. Or a device that moves traffic magically when I’m stuck on the freeway and have ten minutes to get to a meeting.” She lowers her head towards the direction of his eyes. “No more ostentatious pieces of furniture. Okay?”

Tony huffs out a chuckle, a wry smile passing over his lips as he nods. “Square deal. You sure you don’t want me to exchange it? I can find an equally oversized bed, maybe something a little more homey…”

He stops talking when she meets his lips, her tongue finding his mouth, making carefully calculated moves across his teeth before pulling away.

“I think like this home just the way it is.”


	5. Carry Me Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Besides, it wasn’t really making an effort just to walk to your basement and step into the nearest metal suit you found.

She sighs, her hand tugging at the collar of his houndstooth jacket as the _Addams Family_ theme song fills the ballroom. Mentally, she pats herself on the back for convincing him that coming to Boo La La as Iron Man would have been a horrible idea.  
  
And not just because he’d wanted her to dress as “a sexy mad scientist who created him.”  

No, she may be desensitized to the suits, but the idea of trying to dance with him in one, all starts and stops and awkward conversation as she tried to yell over the music, had quickly motivated her to halt that plan.  
  
Besides, it wasn’t really making an effort just to walk to your basement and step into the nearest metal suit you found.  
  
His fingers flex on her hip, his breath coming out in a rush, and she holds back a laugh as she realizes why.  
  
Another Iron Man has entered the room.  
  
Number seven, if her count is right.  
  
“That one doesn’t even have the colors right.” He clenches his jaw, practically growls out the words as he guides her around the floor.  
  
“You really think you have the authority to judge color schemes?”  

“You don’t need a Masters in Fine Arts to know that that red is too orange to even resemble my—”  
  
“Do I need to remind you of the couch?” She lifts an eyebrow at him, her hand smoothing the vest he’s paired with the coat (not quite as long as the traditional look) and hat to complete his costume. “Besides, what does it matter? Are you jealous?”  

“It matters because it’s a clear misrepresentation of what Iron Man stands for.”  

“Because it’s too orange...” 

“Yes,” he snaps, the corner of his mouth lifting as he realizes just how ridiculous that sounds, but damn it, this is his baby.  
  
“Maybe I should talk to marketing about creating our own officially licensed costumes. Stop focusing on all these pesky energy problems.”  
  
“Ok, ok, I get it.” He tugs her closer, arm tightening around her waist. “It’s not the end of the world.”  
  
“And if it was, Captain America is here to protect us.”  

He’s momentarily confused, eyes scanning the room for Steve until he realizes she means the man in costume who just walked onto the dance floor.  
  
“There’s only one of him though.”

He grins cockily and she can’t help but laugh. “Well, either way, I’m glad you decided not to come in the suit; the deerstalker hat is a good look.”  

“A hat fetish? Really, Pepper? ” Turning, he spins her out and then back to him.  
  
“Not a fetish just an... appreciation...”  
  
“I’ll tell you what I appreciate...” His mouth brushes over the curve of her jaw, his hips pressing to hers as the music slows and lightening flashes across the sky. “I appreciate having the sexiest Watson ever as my date.”  
  
“The coat’s not too much?”  
  
“No, it’s perfect.”  

It wasn’t a lie, she’d pulled together a feminine yet strong look for Watson. The fitted black jacket and burgundy sweater vest were perfect; it was the tie that was killing him. Taunting him to unloop it before carrying her off to whatever the closest private room was.  
  
Probably the banquet office. They’d been to more than one event at this hotel.  
  
“...quite the pair. If only we could’ve convinced Natasha and Clint to come.”  

“I’m not sure a charity event where bobbing for apples is a game is where you want a guy that has an infinite supply of arrows.”  

“He’s not William Tell.”

“No? I thought he had his own overture and everyth—”  
  
The words die as another flash of lightening streaks through the clouds and the entire ballroom is thrown into complete blackness.  
  
Murmurs fill the room followed quickly by the sounds of people trying to move around only to be stopped as they run into furniture or, as in the case of someone to their immediate right, other people.  
  
She feels him tense in front of her, his hand tightening around hers as he slowly surveys the room. It’s not like Tony to be somewhere without a plan and she knows he’s running through it now, calculating where everything is in case he would need to spring into action.  
  
The power slowly flickers back on and she feels him exhale, his thumb brushing across her knuckles as his grip on her hand loosens. Andy Freeman, their host, steps on stage apologizing for the outage and making jokes about telling ghost stories, should it happen again.  
  
She turns her back to the words, her gaze raking over her other half.  
  
(She’s way past trying to find one term that really sums up their relationship. This is the closest she’s come up with, though she won’t say it in front of Tony.    
It was bad enough that time she introduced him as her beau.)  
  
“Come on, it’s almost time for dinner.” He tips his head towards the groups of tables circling the floor.  
  
“Yes, wouldn’t want anyone to take our seats.”  

“More like I want to be able to change our seats if we’re sitting with someone horrible.”  

“No repeats of that perfume entrepreneur, I agree.”  
  
“Exactly.” He pulls her forward, wariness still visible his eyes, the set of his jaw.  
  
“Hey...” She leans against him as he stops, her hand splaying across the nape of his neck, curling up into his hair. “Relax, it’s just a storm. Besides, there are like nine Iron Men here to be your back-up if need be.”  
   
A soft smile tugs at his lips and he presses a kiss to her temple. “You’re the only back-up I need, Watson.”


	6. She Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically, Tony Stark has asked Pepper Potts to marry him dozens of times.

It’s not that the words come out of nowhere, because technically, Tony Stark has asked Pepper Potts to marry him dozens of times.

When she singlehandedly saved his reputation by stepping in at a board meeting, steering the conversation away after he botched the answer to a simple budget question.

When he was too drunk to stand (but definitely not drunk enough to know it was her who was undressing him) and needed to get home without the press getting wind of his actions.

When she finally admitted that the suit was a little bit of a turn on, if only so he would stop dropping hints that he should be able to wear it around the house without her making a fuss.

It’s always met with the same response (“no”) and the same snide retort (“you’ll regret that later.”) And so when Pepper opens the door to the workshop and finds Tony sitting on the floor among a mess of screws and holograms, she doesn’t think twice about it, attributing his request to the fact that he’s more or less sequestered himself for over 24 hours.

“I asked you a question, Potts,” he says, not bothering to look up from his work. She sighs.

“You asked me to marry you.” Pepper’s face scrunches up as she places her coffee cup next to a half-built gauntlet. “And if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that, I’d be richer than your stocks right now.”

The lines around his mouth contort at her response and then slump into the beginnings of a frown.

“I believe that may be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I beg to differ,” Pepper replies dryly, leaning back against the table. She bends her head to one side as he falls into silence and watches as he meticulously shoves a piece of metal into place. “Should I even bother to ask if you’re ever coming upstairs?”

“I just…need…to finish…” Before he can complete his sentence, DUM-E’s claw-like arm hits the edge of his seat, sending half of the table’s boxed contents flying in every direction. Tony only manages to catch a handful before they explode onto the floor, nails and bolts spinning out of reach, and he shoots his robot a glare that Pepper recognizes as the one she unintentionally taught him ten years ago. She raises an eyebrow as he comes back to himself.

“Nevermind.” He throws his tools to the side and looks up, rubbing his eyes. “I ruined date night, didn’t I?” There’s a hint of guilt in his voice, as if he’s just seeing her face for the first time, and Pepper sighs quietly.

“Honestly, Tony, you’ve been ruining date night for the past two months. You should know I’m at least used to it by now.” His eyes drop slightly at her words and she tries not to feel bad about being so brutally honest about the situation, if only because she’s well aware that the worst thing she could do would be to start arguing about his reclusive habits.

(Like most things in Tony’s life, their relationship is a work in progress, but Pepper’s come to learn that not pushing ultimately results in him opening up when he’s ready to admit his shortcomings.)

“Well, what if you...married me, and then -”

Pepper tries to keep her words from turning into laughter as she cuts him off. “Tony, you told me – and I quote – ‘I will only ask you to formally marry me when you run out of places to store your shoes.’” She smirks. “Last time I checked, I still had half a shelf in the closet and part of the floor to spare.”

Tony rolls back in his chair. “And you told me – and I quote – ‘you’re insane.’”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “I was being serious.”

“So was I.” His voice drops suddenly and he gets up, placing both hands around her waist. “Marry me.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Tony…I….”

“I promised I would only formally ask you, Pepper Potts, to marry me when you ran out of space in the closet. You told me I was insane. It’s come to my attention that both of those things are now irrelevant, not because I’m _not_ insane, but because you are never going to run out of shoe space so long as we can keep expanding the closet shelves.” She feels her mouth fold into a smile as his grip tightens around her hips.

“What on earth am I supposed to say to that?”

Tony shrugs, suddenly looking extremely solemn. “Well, you could say yes. Or you could say I told you so.”

“I told you so?” Pepper’s voice rises as she pushes back from his arms. “Oh, come on.”

“Need I remind you of every other proposal I’ve given where you tell me no and then I tell you that you’ll regret it?”

“Every other proposal is usually because I’ve unintentionally saved your ass,” she mutters, trying to keep herself from reacting visibly as his fingers move up and down her back, thumbs pushing into the curve of her skin. She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“Are you dying of palladium poisoning and not telling me?”

“Not since I last checked,” and she ignores the recognition of slight sarcasm hidden underneath the morose tones.

“Is there an omelet waiting for me upstairs?”

“Spare me the lecture about how I’m a horrible cook and just say it.”

Pepper presses her lips together, managing to hold them closed until his face drops and he uses his tongue to push them aside. Somewhere, in between finding his mouth and the curve of his shoulders, she manages to force out the words.

“You told me so.”

Tony pulls away, breaking the kiss, a smile ghosting over his face.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He traces her chin with one hand. “And by the way, don’t think I didn’t notice that I’m still waiting for an answer to my question.”

Pepper smiles and leans in, wrapping her arms around the curve of his neck, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Yes. The answer is yes.”


End file.
